


Holocall

by Cinlat



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: A really bad idea, Challenge Accepted, Dubiously consensual Blow Job, F/M, Inappropriate betting, Interspecies Relationship(s), Irresponsible Use of Government Communications Devices, Oral Sex, PWP, Smut, The stubbornness of these two is unmatched, Unfair Foreplay, When friendship clashes with romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: Fynta had a short, manageable checklist: Take a shower, clean her armor and weapons, then screw Jorgan. The first two were complete, but Jorgan was being less than cooperative. Luckily, Fynta loves a challenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was an old fic, one of my first attempts of branching out into smuttier writing, then it sort of fell by the wayside. But, since I'm snowed in for the day, here it is, all edited and steamy. Thanks, as always, to Dimigex for making this drabble 100% better. The alcohol induced mayhem Jorgan describes can be found in Shenanigans.

Fynta had a short, manageable checklist: Take a shower, clean her armor and weapons, then screw Jorgan. The first two were complete, and the Thunderclap would be making the jump to hyperspace soon to head back to Coruscant, so there would be a few hours of downtime. Fynta allowed herself a wry smile as she came down from the bridge, imagining Jorgan sprawled out on the bed, waiting for her. Then, Cormac and Vik distracted her on the way to her room. They were at the table again, working at their arm wrestling to see who had the biggest muscles. It had been going on for a while, long enough for Fynta to have become bored with their stalemate.

“Hey boss, looking for Jorgan?”

Fynta stopped and flashed an innocent grin. “What makes you think that, Cormac?”

“You’re wearing your man-eater face,” Vik grinned, and Fynta snorted a laugh.

“Vik’s right, you know.” Cormac grit his teeth, tapping into his reserves in an effort to declare his biceps superior. Both men were leaning over the table, faces close as they growled at one another, and Fynta was sorely tempted to offer them some privacy. It would scare the osik out of them for sure and might even result in a winner. 

They flopped back into their chairs, leaving Fynta feeling a bit cheated. “He’s in your room talking to Torv,” Cormac went on without breaking eye contact with the Weequay. “Good luck.”

Fynta crossed her arms. Maybe it was because she was so tightly wound, or because her reputation was taking a hit, but she ignored that part of her brain that said  _ drop it _ and leveled the sergeant with a glare. “You don’t like my chances?”

Vik chuckled, and Cormac finally looked up at Fynta. Then, the two grinned at her. “Fifty credits says he’ll completely ignore you,” Cormac challenged.

“Pocket change,” Vik added. “I’ll put one hundred on the boss.” He nodded in a way that was probably supposed to convey his respect for Fynta’s sexual prowess, or maybe her stubbornness. Instead, it made her cringe. Regardless, she raised an expectant an eyebrow at Cormac. 

“Fine,” the man replied. “One hundred.” Good judgement had never been one of Fynta’s strong suits. Without another word, the major spun around after casting a warning glare at the two men who’d settled back into their contest.  _ I swear, if I catch either of them with their ears to the door, I’ll castrate them both. _

When Fynta slipped through the door to her room, Jorgan paused in his conversation and glanced over briefly. “You’ve met her, how do you think?” She wasn’t sure what Torv had asked, but the major grinned all the same. 

Taking a moment to study her husband, Fynta was overcome with longing. Jorgan was the picture of relaxation; leaning back in the desk chair, hands behind his head with feet propped up, already in his fatigues, and no boots for a change. Fynta took that as a favorable sign since he rarely took the blasted things off. His black shirt stretched pleasantly across his chest, and Fynta knew how well those pants fit him. Her first instinct was to cross the room, switch off the holo, and climb into his lap. Granted, those weren’t the parameters of the bet. Jorgan was supposed to choose her over Torv, that was the unofficial rule.

The man on the holo began laughing, pulling Fynta’s attention away from her fantasy and back to the task at hand. “Yeah, I’ve met her, bet she keeps you busy.” Jorgan smiled this time, not quite showing his teeth, and his eyes warmed when he looked at Fynta again. She could work with that.

“Yeah, you could say that.” The Cathar’s expression darkened as Torv’s laughter doubled, just realizing the dual implication of his words. Fynta shook her head slowly, hiding a smile behind her hand.  _ Poor bastard, his mind just doesn’t work like the rest of ours. _ “You know what I mean,” Jorgan growled. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Torv replied. “Next time you’re on leave, we should go out for a few drinks. I’d like to get to know her a little better. She seems like she might be fun once you get some alcohol in her.”

Fynta’s eyebrows rose as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the door. Jorgan was studiously ignoring her now, removing his feet from the desk and inclining forward to talk to Torv. “That’s probably not a good idea. She got into a bar fight last time. Oh, also blackmailed a cop, and jettisoned one of our commando’s fatigues.” 

_ It was a fun night _ , Fynta thought as she quietly flipped the lock. 

Torv, doubled over in tears and slapped his thigh, which made Fynta’s grin widen. “That settles it,” the man breathed. “We are definitely going out for drinks, I need to meet this woman properly.” Jorgan hadn’t missed the fact that she’d shut the door, eyeing Fynta warily, and she began to wondered if she really had become too predictable. 

Moving silently to the bed, Fynta began unbuttoning her jacket while Jorgan watched. The Cathar’s defenses went up further when she tossed it to the side, his eyes narrowing as if he could force a confession from her by glare alone. It was all she could do to contain her laughter, but she managed, because Fynta didn’t want the captain’s former XO to know that she was in the room.

“Tell me about her,” Torv continued, wiping tears from his eyes, oblivious to the fact that he no longer had Aric’s full attention. “All I know is that she kicks Imperial ass, and she’s attractive enough to make you throw out the rule book.” Jorgan snapped his head around, glaring at the holo, and Torv held his hands up. “I won’t tell.” 

Fynta rather liked that title, the woman who could make strict Aric Jorgan turn his back on regulation. She was quite proud of that accomplishment, though it had taken nearly two years to accomplish. She was nothing if not persistent. 

“From everything I’ve gathered from you and the holonews, well, she doesn’t exactly sound like your type,” the man continued, clearing his throat. “She, uh, really Mandalorian?”

Aric nodded. “Yeah, it’s--complicated.” He took a deep breath, glancing her way again. “Fynta’s a good woman, though.” Whatever he planned to follow that statement up with stuck in his throat when Fynta propped a foot on the bed, and began unlacing her boots. The wariness in his eyes edged toward something darker, and Jorgan visibly forced his focus to the younger man on the holo when the conversation switched to Saresh’s latest bill on rules of engagement.

_He’s really going to make me work for this. I’ll be damned if I have to pay out credits for failing to seduce my husband,_ Fynta growled inwardly. It would be doubly humiliating to lose out to politics.

Torv chuckled. “You’re changing the subject.” The man leaned forward to give Jorgan a pointed look. “I believe the major is a good woman, still, bar fights, blackmail? I need more details.” Torv flopped back in his chair, and Fynta realized or the first that he had a drink in his hand. Jorgan had mentioned that Torv drank more these days, still unable to get over the losses of his men on Hoth.

Jorgan gave a halfhearted shrug, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from Fynta’s bad behavior. “I wasn’t there to tell her it was a bad idea, she can be . . . .” Fynta imagined all the words running through his mind: _ reckless, irresponsible, a damn pain in the shebs _ . Jorgan settled for one a little less dramatic. “Spontaneous.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Jorgan, the woman’s a hell of a soldier. I just always assumed you’d settle down with some desk jockey, a civilian, or someone like that one naval officer.” Fynta quirked an eyebrow at the glimpse into her husband's past relationships. It was adorable that he wouldn’t so much as glance in her direction. In truth, the idea of that naval officer sitting lonely in her bunk, while Fynta stood there trying to decide how best to seduce the surly Cathar turned her on. 

“You know, a nice,  _ respectable _ woman,” Torv continued, then apparently thought better of whatever he planned to say next. Fynta puffed air out through her lips, unable to imagine Aric with anyone more subdued. After all, he could be as rough as her in bed. Then again, Torv probably didn’t know that side of the stoic Cathar, it excited Fynta further at the prospect that maybe no one else did. Wouldn’t that be ironic, for a Mandalorian to awaken a Cathar’s more savage nature? 

Shaking her head to remind herself that she had a mission to accomplish, Fynta decided it was time to test Torv’s theory about not being Jorgan’s type. She turned her back to her husband to finish peeling her shirt off, tossing it next to where her pants already lay strewn across the floor.  __

“Hold on, Torv.” 

Fynta glanced over her shoulder with an innocent smile to find Jorgan staring at her. His light blue eyes glowed faintly, and she saw his nostrils flare as he checked her scent.  _ That _ was the reaction she’d hoped for upon arrival.

Giving himself a shake, the Cathar raised an eyebrow before his eyes flicked to the door.  _ Yeah, it’s locked, cyare _ . “What are you doing?” He asked, bringing his eyes to rest on her, though Fynta noticed they took the longer path along her body before meeting her gaze.

“Don’t like?” Fynta stretched out on the bed and smiled, giving her husband an enticing view of the assets she knew he appreciated the most. “Just figured I’d get comfortable.”

Jorgan’s eyes trailed over her again, and for a moment, Fynta thought he'd reach out to brush his hand across the scars on her back, like he always did. They narrowed, and he settled back in the chair with a cool smirk. “Do you want me to take the call in another room?” That, was most definitely _not_ the answer she wanted. Six weeks without sex, and the shabbing Cathar didn’t seem interested in the slightest. Fynta needed to fix that. 

Suddenly, a cruel idea snaked it’s way through Fynta’s mind. It was a bad idea, worse than this bet, but desperate times and all that. It was time to remind Jorgan just how  _ spontaneous _ she could be. So, without giving herself time to consider the consequences, Fynta rolled off the bed and hit the button to unmuted the holo.

“Hey, you’re back. Everything alright?” Torv asked cheerfully, while Jorgan blinked at Fynta. His astonished expression was more than enough to make the mischievous major feel pleased with herself.

“Fine,” Jorgan answered. “Just had to take care of something.” 

Fynta dropped to the floor in front of him, leaning forward to ensure he had the best possible view of her cleavage. She couldn’t look him in the eye. Knowing the furrowed brows of concern, and lips surely pressed into a thin line, would be enough to break her silence. Instead, she focused on his breathing, deciding that would be the best way to gauge her responses. Still, she smiled to herself.  _ Shouldn’t play hard to get, Captain. You know I love a challenge. _

Torv went on without any indication that he knew what was transpiring aboard the Thunderclap. “So, did you catch that game, or did they not have sports where you were?”

“Which one?” Jorgan answered as Fynta eased forward between his knees. He tried to close them too late, and she almost chuckled that it had taken him so long to realize what she’d planned. Fynta could imagine the frantic thoughts racing through his head, and it only served to spur her on. “I’ve missed a lot of sports,” Jorgan continued, sounding completely normal, despite his obvious discomfort. Fynta made it her goal to change that too.

The major wasn’t paying attention to Torv anymore. Her focus had shifted to the best angle of attack as she considered what her husband had to offer, but she kept an ear on the conversation out of habit. “Here it is, check this out,” the man said.

Fynta rested her hands on Jorgan’s knees, rubbing up his thighs, massaging the firm muscles beneath the rough fabric, when his datapad chirped on the desk. The device was in his hands a little too quickly, which gave Fynta some measure of satisfaction. She nearly lost her shaky grasp on silence when Aric held the datapad in his lap, providing a barrier between her hands and his crotch. He’d definitely figured it out. 

When Fynta finally raised her eyes to his, they shone with hunger, which made his glare more appealing than threatening. Responding with a coy grin, finally meeting his gaze, Fynta slid her hands higher. It only took a little persuasion to move the device out of the way. Her fingers traced lightly over the stiff fabric between his legs, dragging a deep inhale from the Cathar, before she grabbed his belt. Not once had either of them broken eye contact, and his raised eyebrows were enough to start the bloom of heat under her ribs.

“Hell of a hit, right?” Torv said. Fynta finished with the buckle and pulled the belt free. Jorgan lifted his hips helpfully when it got hung on the chair, though she imagined that was purely reflex. He looked like he regretted it immediately.

Jorgan finally peeled his eyes away from her to look at the holo. “Yeah,” he replied in a less than steady voice. Fynta saw his throat move as he swallowed and decided to keep going. “Must’ve hurt.” 

One by one, she started on the buttons of his pants, noting the way his stomach rose and fell a little faster with each breath. Fynta slowed her progress, relishing in the Cathar’s sudden squirminess. Six weeks of forced celibacy warred with the inclination to be polite; to finish the overdue conversation with his long time friend.

“Says here, he’s got a broken collarbone, a few bruised ribs, and a busted jaw,” Torv replied. 

Meanwhile, Aric put one hand over Fynta’s and squeezed, a silent request to stop. One that she promptly ignored, of course. She grabbed his wrist and slid his hand into her bra. His fingers tensed instantly, but he didn’t try to pull free. Fynta angled more into his grasp, reveling in the heat from his palm and the gentle squeezes he gave despite his hesitation. 

Torv whistled, pulling Jorgan’s attention back to the call. They went on discussing the amount of time the guy would have to spend in the koltotank and physical therapy. Fynta switched off, listening for cue words alone, so she could focus on Aric. Judging by the violent snaps of each clasp she undid, he needed a lot of attention.

“Sounds like Fynta after our average mission,” Jorgan replied as she popped the last button on his pants. His voice had a disconnected sound to it that let her know that he was now one hundred percent focused on what she was doing. The Cathar’s mouth was on automatic, a rare state for him. 

Fynta massaged Jorgan’s hips, letting her fingers come tantalizing close to his erection, but never actually touching it. She paused, however, when Torv’s tone of disbelief echoed through the holo. “Wait, are you serious? She’s suffered those kind of injuries, and they didn’t rotate her out of the service.”

Aric jolted, realizing what he said, and Fynta chuckled lightly, slapping a hand over her mouth again. Now she got to watch him try to dig his way out. Given that most of her injuries were off treated off the record, Fynta decided to leave her hands resting on Aric’s thigh so that he could form coherent thoughts this time. The Cathar adopted a casual tone. “Fynta leads from the front, so more often than not, she takes the first hit.” 

While Jorgan came up with an excuse, Fynta pulled from his grasp and leaned back to tug off her bra. The shabbing Cathar had the nerve to look relieved at the loss of contact. Jorgan's eyes remained on the holo, but it was obvious when he noticed her again, which was about the time she tossed the bra to the side. He sat upright and tried to wiggle back in his chair. Fynta smiled. She’d placed herself perfectly to avoid just such an escape route. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, and Fynta inched forward a little more.

“Command doesn’t have anything to say about the repair bills?” Torv asked. 

Fynta returned her hands to Jorgan’s legs, grinning up at the Cathar. He refused to look at her now, but she could see his jaw working furiously. Fynta intentionally avoided the obvious bulge again, skirting around it to run her hands across his abs, being sure to stay below view of the holo. Leaning close, she let her breasts press into his lap, while she placed kisses down his stomach. The man was incredibly fit, all hard muscle under soft fur, and she enjoyed exploring those finer details.  And the way his firmness pressed into the soft flesh of her breast was maddening. Fynta now found Aric’s refusal to submit arousing. A challenge she was more than willing to devote as much time as needed to conquer.

“We’ve got better armor, so mostly we just hammer out the dings ourselves,” Jorgan replied shakily to Torv’s almost forgotten question. Fynta could hear the Cathar’s carefully controlled breaths. Deep inhales, slow exhales. She’d reached his hips before she couldn’t hide her smile any longer, lowering her head a little more to let her breath settle over his groin. 

“Tell me about the guys, Torv, how are they?” Jorgan’s voice was almost desperate.  _ Clever man _ , Fynta thought with pride. If he could get Torv on a long winded story about one of the Deadeyes, then Jorgan wouldn’t have to concentrate so much on his responses, meaning she was winning.

Fynta didn’t hear the reply, she’d made it all the way down to Aric’s waistband. The Cathar hissed when she slid one hand inside his shorts, using the other to pull away the course material.  _ Shab he’s hard _ . A twinge of guilt threatened to stay Fynta’s hand, six weeks was a long time, and she hadn’t been kind. Then she remembered that all he had to do was tell Torv he’d call him back. So, Fynta pushed the guilt away, and gave Jorgan a firm grip. It felt like wrapping her fingers around warm durasteel, and she had to steady the rapid beating of her own heart as desire pooled in the pit of her stomach. 

Fynta started with slow, methodical movements, just enough to tease the Cathar. Jorgan did his best to ignore her, pressing his lips into a tight line. A vicious smile curled Fynta’s mouth when he spared her a glance. Taking the opportunity to bend her head, she kissed the tip lightly. Jorgan jumped, thrusting his hips forward, and grasped the desk. She’d waited for eye contact for that reason alone. She wanted the stubborn Cathar to watch.

“You alright, Jorgan? You’re looking a little antsy,” Torv commented.

“Yeah,” Aric managed in a somewhat strangled tone, then cleared his throat. “Something fell in the main room.”

Fynta smiled, and pressed her tongue against the taut skin, rolling it in a circle. She heard him gasp, and knew she had him right where she wanted him. He tasted salty and hot, incredibly appealing. So much so, that Fynta was tempted to disconnect the call herself, just so she could pull him from the chair onto the floor with her. But she resisted. Looking up to make sure he was still watching, Fynta opened her mouth and took him in as far as she could. 

Jorgan tried to remain still while her tongue ran up and down his shaft. She watched his hand ball into a fist in her peripheral, clenching and relaxing, until his other hand rested on her head. At first, she thought it was in encouragement, until he tried to push her away, revealing just how desperate he must be. Again, Fynta grabbed his forearm, and brought his hand to bear on her breast. He didn’t fight this time either, and his squeezes were rough and frantic. Pressing her tongue firmly against him, she chuckled. Jorgan shot straight up, the muscles in his thighs beginning to tremble. He was close, she should probably back off a little. While Fynta enjoyed teasing the Cathar, she had no intention of traumatizing the man. Either of them. 

Then, Fynta heard him growl. “Torv, I need to--”

“Ah hell,” Torv interrupted. Fynta was sure she knew how it was going to end, though. “I gotta go, Berix says the major has an op for us; some new guys that need training too. It was good catching up, Jorgan, let’s aim for a little sooner rather than later on the next one, and I still want drinks with you and the missus.”

“Sure thing,” Jorgan replied in a strangled gasp, slapping his palm down on the disconnect. His hands tangled in Fynta’s hair immediately, tugging her braid loose when she attempted to disengage. “Where do you think you’re going?” he rasped. 

Fynta cut her eyes up at him, narrowing them when she met his smirk. Jorgan’s fingers tightened, making his intentions clear. So, Fynta charged forward with vigor, swirling her tongue, sucking in her cheeks, and bobbing up and down. Jorgan’s head tipped back as a delirious groan broke free of his lips. Fynta could picture him, eyes screwed shut, teeth bared in a silent snarl. The mental image did wonders for her own passion, wringing a lusty moan from her as well. 

Aric’s breathing became ragged, hips thrusting in time with her movements. When his hold on her hair became painful, Fynta quickened her strokes, wrapping one hand around his base to pump in time with their already frantic rhythm. This was no longer about the bet, but about giving her husband the gratification he deserved, and hopefully, having the favor returned. She’d always wondered what his rough tongue felt like.

Suddenly, the muscles in Jorgan’s thighs tightened, the oath erupting from his lips being the only warning Fynta had of his building release. The force of it was so sudden that she nearly gagged, squeezing his legs in order to maintain some control over the depth of his thrusts. 

Giving one final, shuddering breath, Jorgan sank back into the chair. His chest was heaving when Fynta pulled back, finding an exhausted, but sated expression on her husband’s face. Running his fingers gently through the now tangled mess of her hair, Aric snorted a tired laugh. “You know, there are easier ways to get me off a call.”

Fynta grinned and wiped her mouth. “Yes, but this was more fun.” Technically, she had won the bet, though it was unlikely that she would collect until Jorgan was a safe distance away, possibly on another planet. Grinning at the Cathar, she sat back on her heels, admiring the view before her. He was well worth every credit in a universe.

Jorgan moved without warning when Fynta turned to find her clothing, scooping her off the floor, and pinning her to the bed. “I’m not done with you yet,” he growled softly into her ear. Fynta surrendered eagerly. Who cared about the shabbing bet anyway?


End file.
